The Swing

My daughter has spent a good deal of her life in a sling. She calls it her swing. We haven’t used it in a while because she is almost FOUR and is FORTY-FOUR POUNDS! But tonight she drug it out and looked pleadingly into my eyes and said, “Mama, I want to go for a walk in the swing.” I had to say yes.

As I was putting the leash on the dog, I couldn’t help but feel a little nostalgic anticipation at having her so tight against me again almost like she was inside of my body again. She’s quickly moving from babyhood to girlhood and as much as I once longed for this to happen, it’s breaking my heart.

But tonight, no worries, we’re swinging it down the road with her little blonde head resting on my chest just like always.